January 29, 2011 - 11:17pm — thecapturedplanet
"Brother smells funny" he had a voice like clotted honey, rough, but still sweet. Something too soft to come from such a giant, antlers like sprawling red branches entwined with barbed wire, sometimes he would bleed, when the wire snagged his ears or forehead, muzzle. But he was used to that.
"Come for a walk with me" canine-cervine hybrid.
Once his fur had been sleek and well kept, his antlers had blossomed wide and sweet smelling with blue roses.
They were barren now, merely twined with the blackened sticks that had once been roses, save for a few which had dried and turned a soft shade of midnight blue.
Foam bubbled light around his mouth, at the edges, eyes runny and glossed.
His body didn't take well to the change.
"Okay!" He sounded bubbly, happy.
He wasn't stupid, he knew what was going to happen.
He merely accepted it with the grace that all things wise accept things to come.
"H-how was your day?"
"Good! I talked to mamma oak, and the idol" he prattled on and on, for he was certain that Rosine did not want to speak, ribs pressing against ragged sides told that it was difficult enough just to walk.
The gods had been so kind.
They gave him a husband.
A child. Even.
It was hardly light out.
The river burbled and called, a lullaby, broken hearted and soft.
There he was, pile of red.
Jergens...
He knew that scent anywhere.
Sleeping, snoring gently, curled beneath a tree.
Briar was silent, keeping his distance as Rosine approached, laying beside him for a moment, muzzle pressed gently against his cheek for a moment.
His head shook, sending a shower of dried blossoms down, the scent was strong.
"Thank you
Can you hear me?
...
Keep sleeping.
You stay strong, okay?
I know those here will take care of you" he rose on shaking limbs.
"Come now Briar"
The red stag moved on with the azure, pausing for a moment beside his 'uncle'.
"Thanks for taking care of Rosie, and me, We appreciated it. Buh-bye" words softer than wind.
The forest was quiet.
The forest was beautiful.
The first rich cascades of sunlight flitted through the trees, the first morning birds calling their joy to the sky, the wind, nothing in particular.
What pleasant sights.
The poppies were beautiful.
Weren't they?
They lay amongst them, the blue's head atop the red's neck.
"They smell like something new. Don't they Rosine?"
"Yeah...they do, don't they?"
"Always something new"
"Does dying hurt?"
"No more than living"
"I'm glad"
The red stag smiled.
And it was over.
One might have thought he was sleeping, the way he lay amongst the poppies.
They wouldn't even have seen the blood, even if his pelt hadn't been red, for there was hardly any all to see, it had only been a nip, just a nip, through his neck.
He must have been having a pleasant dream, the way he smiled.
"Goodnight Bri'"
He was so tired.
his breathing smoothed, and came to a shuddering stop.
He looked much more healthy in death.
They looked comfortable. Together like that.
Whistle.
Chirp.
Birds in the air.
Sun across the sky.
Always something new.
Congradulations. This the
This the first ever piece of lit on this comm that has had the power to make me break out in sobs.
I'll write a reaction to this, though I admit, it will lack the sheer emotional power that this carries.
There's always something new, even if the things we love have to go away in order to get them.
I love you, man. I won't be able to forget you even if I wanted to.
;_;